Exiled
by Elizabeth Goode
Summary: What will happen when Elrond discovers Arwen and Estel's love? Will father and son be reconciled?
1. Part I

Exiled  
  
By Elizabeth Goode  
  
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"Exiled."  
  
The silence pounded in his ears. That single word coming from those lips tore his heart asunder. Moments before, he had felt like an adult, participating in adult conversation with another adult. A man, in love with a woman who returned his love. That one word reduced him to a child again, an abandoned child, hungry and desperate for love and approval. Suddenly, it mattered not that his skill with the sword was legendary, that he could track a deer through terrain that would scarcely take a footprint. It mattered not that he had risked his life for this man and those he held dear. Years of happiness in Rivendell were torn away when his foster father, Lord Elrond Half-Elven, uttered that word.  
  
He forced himself to remain outwardly calm, but it was difficult, so difficult that he could hear the repressed tears bleeding into his voice upon occasion. "When must I depart?"  
  
"Within the week. Your wounds should be healed enough by that time."  
  
Estel moved his arm experimentally, unable to hide the wince of pain that small movement caused. The arm was broken and badly. He would be lucky if he could even move it by the time he was expected to leave. That Elrond would send him away in that condition spoke to how much the elf lord wanted him gone. The pain in his arm was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.  
  
"Of course. I will go and say my goodbyes, but I would speak with you first."  
  
"Say what you must."  
  
"Thank you for taking me in when you did not have to. Thank you for extending your hospitality well past the onset of my adulthood. I apologize for any inconveniences I or my mortality have caused for you and your kin. In time, I hope to repay at least a small portion of your kindness."  
  
Taken aback by his foster son's words, Elrond could only nod. "You will be given food and supplies, and of course you will take your pick of the horses."  
  
Estel spared no time. He immediately went to pack his food and supplies, taking them to the stable, where he readied his horse. Then, he went up to his room and wrote two letters, one for each of his brothers, bidding them goodbye. Heading back to the stable, he secured his packs and used his good arm to help get himself onto the horse's back. No one noticed that he was gone until morning, when Elladan and Elrohir found and read their letters.  
  
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Legolas Greenleaf arrived at Rivendell the next day. He had been in Mirkwood for the last couple of months, and he was happy to be visiting his friends again. Elladan and Elrohir met him at the stables and helped him care for his horse.  
  
"It is good to see you both again. I feared that my father would keep me occupied with matters of state forever!"  
  
When the twins neither laughed nor smiled, Legolas felt a strange sensation of foreboding in his stomach. He looked from one pair of sad eyes to the other, noting for the first time the slump of their shoulders.  
  
"What is it?" When neither of them answered immediately, he asked, "Where is Estel?"  
  
Elladan closed his eyes. "It is a terrible day you are witness to here in Rivendell. Father found out that Estel's admiration of our sister is not one-sided. Arwen returns his love."  
  
Legolas shook his head and repeated, "Where is Estel?"  
  
"He is gone, Legolas. Father exiled him. He cannot return to Rivendell, nor visit Lorien ever again. Father gave him a week to heal before he left, but Estel was gone this morning. He left a letter for myself and one for Elladan."  
  
"Heal? What happened to him that he needed to heal from?"  
  
Elrohir sighed. "Orcs. He and Arwen had stolen away for a picnic under the stars. They were attacked by a small band of orcs, and Estel fought them. Luckily, Father and Elladan and I were out hunting the orcs and helped him to put an end to the foul creatures, but not before one of them snapped his arm out of sheer cruelty. Arwen knelt beside him, called him her love. It was as though Father's blood turned to ice. He sent Arwen, Elladan, and I back home, and I suppose that he treated Estel's arm and informed him that he was no longer welcome here."  
  
The prince of Mirkwood frowned. "Do you agree with this decision?"  
  
Both twins burst out at the same time, "No!"  
  
Elladan explained. "I am sad that Arwen might decide not to sail to the havens with us when our time on Middle Earth is finished, but I cannot be glad that Estel has gone. He is my brother."  
  
"And mine." Elrohir shook his head sadly. "Father will come to regret this decision, I fear. He loves Estel like a son."  
  
"Loved, Elrohir. I have no love in my heart for a man who would take my daughter's immortality away from her. I gave him my love when he was a child, I trusted him as much as I trust my own children, and he betrayed that trust. I have done my duty by the Heir of Isildur. Let us pray to Iluvitar that I have instilled in him enough strength of character that he will do his."  
  
Legolas glared at the Lord of Rivendell. "Estel has stronger character than most elves. Please don't insult my friend in my presence."  
  
Elrond pressed his lips together. "All right, though I would remind you, young prince, that you are a guest in this place."  
  
"No, I don't believe that I am. You let your son ride away from here with despair in his heart and an unhealed wound. I will ride after him."  
  
With that, the prince of Mirkwood swung back onto his horse and rode away.  
  
Briefly, Elrond sought to meet his sons' eyes, but both of them looked away.  
  
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Estel rode hard through the night, never stopping to sleep or even to rest. In a day's time, he was still in the wild. He ate a small ration from the food he had taken with him from Rivendell, and the sight of it sent tremors of misery through his body. Did Arwen truly love him, as she had said? Had his - had Elrond ever cared for him at all?  
  
He remembered being a very small child, curling his body against his foster father's for comfort. Elrond had often comforted young Estel after nightmares, sitting up with him until the young human fell asleep. He remembered falling into the river from a serious height while on a hunting trip with his brothers and Legolas. Elrond had healed his wounds and stayed with him throughout the illness that had followed. Estel would never forget the gentle touch of Elrond's hands as they stroked his hair away from his fevered forehead.  
  
Estel brushed his tears away, even though there was no one to see them. What would Arwen think when she discovered him gone? Would they tell her why he was no longer in Rivendell, or would they allow her to believe that he did not care for her any longer?  
  
He rode for three days straight, stopping only to eat and relieve himself. When he approached a village, his first thought was to find somewhere to stay for the night. Even a Ranger such as himself could not last much longer without a good night's sleep.  
  
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His bed on the second floor of the inn was scarcely better than sleeping on the ground outside. The inn was poorly built and drafty, the bed old and hard. In the end, his exhaustion won out over his physical discomfort and emotional pain. The young Ranger slept soundly, until a shrill, piercing cry from outside jarred him rudely awake. It was the scream of an orc, and in his experience, there was never just one orc.  
  
Sword in hand, he crept silently down the stairs. There was next to no warning as the door of the inn burst open and several orcs rushed in. The patrons of the inn and the innkeeper's family screamed in terror. Estel was the only armed man in the room, and so he faced the orcs alone. Had he been rested and fully healed from his injury, he would have been able to kill at least ten of them, but he was suffering from exhaustion, his spirit was troubled, and his arm hurt terribly. He managed to kill eight of them before cruel orc hands closed around his throat, squeezing until everything went black.  
  
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Legolas saw the smoke on the horizon, and felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. He hoped that his friend was not in any kind of trouble, but in his heart, he scarcely dared to hope that it was true. Trouble followed the young human as though it were glued to his cloak.  
  
Encouraging his horse to move faster, he covered the distance to the burning village in a very short time. When he arrived, it was a depressing sight. Buildings burned, people tended the wounded, shouts of despair and anger rang out. Of all of the buildings, the inn had fared the worst.  
  
Legolas secured his horse, whispering elvish words of comfort to the animal, which was clearly distressed by his surroundings. A stranger in an unfamiliar place would have gone directly to an inn. Estel was a stranger to this place, and so Legolas was certain that he might at least find a clue, if not his friend inside.  
  
The main room of the inn was destroyed. The carcasses of eight orcs lay near the stairs, and they were no mere goblins. These were some of the most powerfully built orcs the elf had ever seen. Had Estel cut down those orcs? Had he done it alone, with his sword arm badly wounded? What had happened to him afterward?  
  
A voice jolted the elf out of his thoughts. "You lookin' for somebody?"  
  
The voice belonged to a man who could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty. He was dirty, filthy, in fact. He smelled as though he had been around pigs for a very long time.  
  
When Legolas did not reply, the man repeated his question. "You lookin' for somebody? 'Cause if they were here, they're probably dead or worse by now. The orcs emptied the inn of all meat and ale, and killed most of the inhabitants."  
  
The Elven prince moved upwind of the stranger. "I am looking for a friend. He probably arrived last night, and he has dark hair nearly to his shoulders. He might have used the name Strider or Estel."  
  
The man's eyes dulled sadly. "Strider, you say? Tall fellow, arm in a sling?"  
  
Legolas nodded eagerly. "Yes, that's him! Where is he?"  
  
"He's gone, that one is. He killed all of 'em orcs in that pile. It was because of him that I was able to escape with my family and hide among the pigs."  
  
Fighting the urge to scream in frustration, Legolas forced his voice to remain gentle. It was not the fault of the odiferous man that his friend was missing. "Tell me, sir. When you say that he is gone, do you mean that he left or that he is dead?"  
  
"Neither, master elf. I mean that the orcs overpowered him. I watched from the pigsty as they left. They took your friend with them. Flung him over their shoulders like a sack of flour, they did."  
  
Legolas felt his legs go weak beneath him. There had been a time not so long ago, especially to an elf who had lived as long as he had, that the kidnapping of a human by orcs would not have affected him so. That had been before he met Estel. The thought of his dear friend in the brutal hands of the orcs made his blood boil with anger and his skin crawl in sympathy. He knew firsthand that Estel's stay with the orcs would not be pleasant. He also knew that he had to rescue the human before he was damaged beyond repair. Legolas had only been a captive of the orcs for a couple of days before the rest of his party had come to the rescue. His injuries had healed quickly because of his firstborn blood. Elves healed much faster than humans, and he shuddered to think of more harm befalling Estel.  
  
"Thank you, sir. You have been most helpful. I must ride after them to save my friend."  
  
The man nodded. "Good luck to you, master elf. I hope that you find your friend."  
  
Legolas swung back up onto his horse and muttered under his breath, "I will find him. That much is certain. I only wish that I find him alive."  
  
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Pain, bright and blinding. It was the only thing he could feel. His head ached, his arm throbbed mercilessly, and his soul felt as though it had been rent asunder. Images played in his mind, taunting him with his life before his exile. He saw himself as a child, playing hide and seek with Elladan and Elrohir. His Elven brothers had always taken great interest in playing with him. He remembered waking from nightmares to his foster father's gentle voice, soothing him back to sleep. He remembered Arwen, only days before his exile, declaring her love to him ...  
  
Then, the images began to distort. He heard Elrond's voice change from soothing and gentle to harsh and full of hate. "Exiled." The word echoed in his mind until a powerful blow to his chest caused him to open his eyes in surprised pain.  
  
He was surrounded by orcs. He was unarmed, and his hands were bound. Estel squeezed his eyes shut, uttering a prayer to the Valar that his death would be swift. To his surprise, they did not attack him.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
Estel opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Surprised, his hands went to his throat. He remembered the orc hands tightening around his neck and shuddered. His windpipe must have been damaged. Struggling to speak, he managed to croak hoarsely, "Strider, a ranger of the north."  
  
The biggest, ugliest orc leaned close to him, and he almost passed out from the smell of its breath. "Well, Strider. A ranger? We could use us a good ranger!"  
  
The other orcs laughed and mimicked Estel, whose hand still covered his bruised throat protectively. "Yeah, we need a ranger!"  
  
"Shut up! I am Ugblood, Captain of this unit. You will lead us to the Elven kingdom of Rivendell."  
  
Estel shook his head. He would not lead orcs into his home to harm his father, his brothers, and his beloved. They could kill him first. "I will not help you. I do not even know where Rivendell is located, and even if I did, I would rather die than take you there!"  
  
Ugblood leaned close to the human again, fixing him with a foul, twisted grin that chilled him to the bone. "We will see, little ranger. Before I have finished with you, you will wish that I would let you die!"  
  
Raw fear permeated Estel's senses as he struggled to escape his captors to no avail. One of the other orcs handed a long-tailed whip with a wooden handle to Ugblood, and Estel fought to escape as the orcs held him firmly down. As the whip bit into the flesh of his back, Estel brought his bound arms up to his face, biting down on his forearm to keep from crying out.  
  
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Legolas watched the orc camp from the edge of the woods. He could not tell what was going on, but the sound of a ragged scream confirmed his suspicion that Estel was there and was, for the moment, still alive. Another scream caused the Elven prince to fall to his knees, holding his head in his hands. The orcs were beating him, and Legolas was powerless to help him. "Hold on, Estel. Don't give up! I will come for you under the cover of night."  
  
When at last night fell, Legolas crept silently as only an elf can through the orc camp, looking for his friend. He did not have to look for long. Estel was bound to a wooden post that was buried in the ground. He looked to be unconscious, and in the moonlight, the human seemed very young indeed. What was left of his shirt hung in tattered strips from his shoulders, which were striped with cuts from the beating. An unsightly gash ran from his hairline down the side of his face to his jaw line. What caught Legolas attention most were the marks around Estel's neck. Deep purple bruises ringed his neck, in the shape of orc hands.  
  
Drawing his blade, Legolas cut his friend's bonds, lifting the young human gently. At his touch, Estel gave a pitiful cry of pain, which Legolas stifled by rolling the human's face into his shoulder. Still moving silently, Legolas bore Estel away with him, into the forest, where his horse was still waiting. Practically throwing Estel into the saddle, Legolas mounted behind him and took the reins.  
  
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After riding for long enough that he was certain the orcs would not find them, Legolas lifted Estel down from the saddle and laid him out on a blanket on the ground. The place where they had stopped was a hidden glade, deep in the forest. Sunlight poured down, but did not brighten the elf's mood as he began the unpleasant task of caring for Estel's wounds.  
  
Using his dagger, Legolas sliced the remainder of the shirt from his body, grimacing when the shirt stuck to the wounds. The cuts began at the tops of his shoulders and covered his back from shoulder to waist. The gashes cut into the young man's muscles, causing some of them to spasm from the stress. Gently, the elf cleaned the wounds, occasionally stopping to run his hand comfortingly though Estel's hair. His body trembled and his brow burned with fever.  
  
"Ada! I am sorry! Please, do not send me away!"  
  
The unconscious human was dreaming, and the desperation in his voice tore at Legolas' heart.  
  
"Please, Elladan, Elrohir ... I am lost. You must find me, my brothers ... but, you do not wish to find me, I know. You would be proud of me, Elladan. I killed eight of the foul creatures, they will not find Rivendell."  
  
Legolas pressed a water-soaked cloth to his friend's forehead. "Estel! Come back to the light, my friend. It is only Legolas who is here with you."  
  
In response, Estel's back arched as he was assailed with a new onslaught of pain. "Arwen, my beloved ... no right, I had no right ... "  
  
Shifting his position so that he could hold his friend to still his shivering, Legolas felt his anger rising again. As long as he had known the young human, Estel had felt all too keenly the differences between himself and the elves. He desired his father's approval above all things, and up until his unhappy arrival at Rivendell several days ago, Legolas would have sworn that Lord Elrond had a father's love for his foster son.  
  
The elf prince frowned, lost in memory. His mind's eye saw Estel feverishly studying Elven history in the vast library of Lord Elrond. He saw a very young Estel, reluctant to speak at all because he could not yet speak Elvish. Then, still unwilling to speak very much until he was completely rid of his accent. So much determination for such a young child. Legolas remembered still more, seemingly isolated instances that now fit together to make perfect sense. Once, he had been on a visit from Mirkwood to see Elladan and Elrohir. The twins spent a lot of time playing with their young foster brother, as well as in training him. Estel had been a mere twelve years old when they began giving him training with a sword. Estel took this training as seriously as he took everything else, and in a short time had perfected the movements his brothers had taught him. Elladan had then challenged Estel to a mock-duel to test his ability to apply what he had learned. Using only the moves and defenses he had taught his brother, Elladan had been very careful not to harm the human boy, however, Estel proved to be a stronger opponent than Elladan had thought. Injecting a bit of surprise into the "duel", Elladan tossed his sword into his left hand, then ducked and rolled, taking Estel's feet out from under him. Laughing as he helped his young brother to his feet, Elladan had explained that the trick he had used was one learned from Arathorn, Estel's human father. Legolas heard young Estel's voice ringing in his head as clear as if it were happening right now. "I will not fight like the Edain. I will fight like an elf!"  
  
Legolas shook his head sadly. The more elf-like Estel had acted, the more approval he got from Lord Elrond. The elf-lord had been sending his foster son unspoken, unintentional signals for twenty years, and the message had been clear; to be of the Edain was undesirable.  
  
"Sorry ... I'm sorry, Ada! I will not trouble you again!"  
  
The elf-prince lay his cloak over his friend and kept watch over him throughout the night.  
  
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Riders on horseback raced into Rivendell, bearing the mark of the royalty of Mirkwood. Elladan and Elrohir ran to meet them. A tall, thin elf slid down from the back of a horse that was as tired as her rider, passing the reins to the other rider, who seemed to be the servant.  
  
"Sons of Elrond?"  
  
The twins nodded.  
  
"I bear a message from King Thranduil of Mirkwood. There are urgent matters to discuss. May I have audience with your father?"  
  
Elrohir spoke. "Of course. Please, tell us on the way to his quarters."  
  
"There are two parts to this ill news. The first is that Legolas, son of Thranduil is long overdue in his return home. Last we heard, he had decided to visit Rivendell, but he always sends word. We have heard nothing from him. The second part is, I hope, unrelated. There have been reports of bands of orcs very near to both Mirkwood and Rivendell. We have reason to believe that they are trying to find Rivendell. Several small villages have been burned, all human."  
  
Elladan's face went pale. "Well, I can tell you that Legolas was indeed here, but that he is five days gone from here. He did not even stay the night."  
  
The messenger grimaced. "So, Thranduil's son could be out there alone with bands of orcs on the loose?"  
  
"That's not entirely true. He might not be completely alone. He went in search of Estel, our youngest brother. Estel is formidable with both the bow and the sword, as is your prince." Elrohir's voice held a false confidence that he hoped the messenger did not hear. He had every confidence in Estel's abilities, and in those of Legolas, but he feared in his heart that something terrible had happened.  
  
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After delivering the messenger and his message to Lord Elrond, the twins waited until the man had been led away by some of the servants to a room where he could catch some much-needed sleep.  
  
"Ada? What do you make of this news?" Elladan had difficult time keeping the accusing note out of his voice.  
  
"I believe that Prince Legolas is in considerable danger. We must send out a company to find him and kill the orcs."  
  
His forehead wrinkled in thought, Elrohir asked, "Why would orcs suddenly be interested in finding Rivendell? They cannot hope to take it over, not with our archers and warriors."  
  
Lord Elrond sighed tiredly. He had not been himself since he had sent Estel away, but any attempt to discuss the matter was abruptly cut off. "I do not know what they hope to accomplish, but that is neither here nor now. You must lead the company to find the Prince of Mirkwood. You are both the most skilled killers of orc in Rivendell, perhaps in all of Middle Earth."  
  
Hesitantly, Elladan asked, "What of Estel? Perhaps Legolas has found him and is not alone after all."  
  
"Or, " Elrohir put forth morosely, "Or, perhaps he has not found him, and Estel is alone out there. He could even have been captured by the orcs."  
  
Elrohir had said what he had for a purpose. He wanted to watch to see if there was even a hint that the thought of Estel in the hands of orcs had any effect whatsoever on their father. It was a cruel card to play, as the idea of orc captivity always brought to mind the capture and subsequent departure to the Undying Lands of Celebrian, beloved wife of Elrond and mother of his children.  
  
It worked. A muscle in the Elf-lord's cheek twitched, and he fixed his son with a hard glare. "If Estel has been captured, the orcs could force him to give away the location of Rivendell. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that you find and kill all of the orcs. Is that understood?"  
  
Elladan nodded. "It is understood, Father."  
  
Elrond winced at his son's use of the formal title instead of the more familiar, 'Ada'.  
  
"If you think that Estel would give away the location of Rivendell to orcs, you never knew him at all. He would die before he gave away even a hint."  
  
Elrond shook his head. "I would like to believe that, but after he betrayed my trust in the manner he did, I do not believe that I can. He is, after all, of the Edain."  
  
"Enough!"  
  
All three elves turned in surprise at the sound of a female voice. Arwen stood in the doorway, and none of them had ever seen her look so angry. Her face was even paler than usual, with the exception of the angry flush on her cheeks. She was not dressed in her usual gowns, but in riding clothes. Her bow was slung over her back in the Elven style, and her sword hung from her belt.  
  
Elrond opened his mouth to speak, but was abruptly cut off. "No, you will listen to me. All of you will listen to me. Estel did nothing that I did not wish for him to do. In fact he was so afraid to touch me at first that it took a long time for me to make him comfortable around me. After all, I was in Lorien while you and the twins were getting used to having him in your lives. He made no advances to me. I advanced on him. When I saw him upon my arrival here in Rivendell, I knew then that the choice of Luthien would one day be mine to make."  
  
She rounded on her father, again silencing his attempt to speak out. "I have not finished! You speak of his audacity to believe that an Elven maiden could love him - what of my audacity? He is to be a king of men. You did not name him Estel because you liked the name. If I win his heart, if I make him love me and then do not choose him? If I make promises to him and then leave for the Undying Lands, leaving a wrecked man to rule over men? Have you thought of this, father? Have you? I will not do to him what Mother did to you, to all of us!"  
  
Even Elladan and Elrohir could not believe what their sister had said. They gaped at her. Her words had touched on a painfully unhealed wound in all of their lives.  
  
"Daughter, you do not know what you are saying! Your mother - my Celebrian - she was harmed most grievously by the orcs. They abused her in every way imaginable. She chose to leave us because it was the only way she could deal with what happened."  
  
Completely undaunted, Arwen shot back, "And what makes you think that the foul beasts would treat Estel any more kindly than they did Mother? And, because he is as you constantly remind me, of the Edain, the Undying Lands will not be an option for him. He will not be able to simply run away from pain and strife. He will have to live with it, or it will kill him. If there was not time enough for one of the firstborn to recover from captivity, what hope is there for Estel? He is grown, yes, but still young, even by the reckoning of men."  
  
Arwen's words had affected Elrond. Even through his anger at Estel, he shivered at the idea of the boy being held captive by orcs. No one deserved that.  
  
"I will be waiting at the stables when you are ready to leave, my brothers." With that, Arwen turned on her heel and stalked away.  
  
The twins exchanged glances. Neither of them had seen Arwen like that before, and both hoped never to have to witness her wrath again. They also knew that she spoke the truth. They had been the ones to rescue Celebrian, and had never truly stopped feeling the guilt for not finding her sooner. She had not even said goodbye to her children before she left, and the twins had long felt that this was because she blamed them.  
  
Without another word, Elladan and Elrohir followed their sister out, leaving Elrond alone to remember the past and hope for the future.  
  
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	2. Part II

Exiled  
  
By Elizabeth Goode  
  
Part II  
  
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Legolas broke camp before dawn, getting rid of every trace that anyone had been there. He did not wish to risk being tracked by the orcs. He glanced at Estel, who still lay on the ground beneath Legolas' cloak. Waking the young Ranger was the last thing he wanted to do, but there was no choice. Kneeling down beside his friend, he gently brushed straggling dark hair away from his eyes.  
  
"I am sorry, my friend. We must leave this place, or risk being found. The orcs will have noticed you missing by now."  
  
With absolutely no warning, Estel sat bolt upright, his eyes filled with desperation and uncertainty. Before Legolas could say or do anything, Estel was on his feet. The young human swayed precariously but did not fall.  
  
Slowly, the uncertainty changed to recognition, and Legolas felt his heart breaking as his friend reached out to him, then winced as his injured arm protested. "L-Legolas?"  
  
Closing the distance between himself and his friend, the elf-prince caught him in a gentle embrace. "Yes, it is Legolas. You are safe now."  
  
Estel's strength waned and his legs trembled beneath him. Legolas eased him down to the ground.  
  
"It hurts." Estel grimaced in pain, hissing as his back came into contact with Legolas' shoulder. "A lot." His voice was hoarse, and he brought his good hand up to massage his bruised throat.  
  
Legolas shifted to make the Ranger more comfortable. "We cannot linger for long. We must get you - " The elf stopped. He had been about to say that he must get Estel home, to Rivendell, where Lord Elrond would heal his wounds and his fever. That was now impossibility. He finished lamely, "We must get you to a healer."  
  
"Peace, Legolas. You said nothing wrong. I am assuming that you stopped in Rivendell, and you know that I am no longer welcome there."  
  
The prince of Mirkwood nodded. "I arrived the eve of the day that you left. Your father has made a terrible mistake, Estel. He will come to regret the things he did and said. Elladan and Elrohir were quite angry as well."  
  
"It is their right. Their sister is above me. I crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed."  
  
"They are angry with Lord Elrond for sending you away, not with you. When I found out that you had been sent away injured, I rode after you. I tracked you to the inn, or what was left of it, and was informed that the orcs had taken you. I tracked them and stole you back."  
  
Estel smiled faintly. "For that I thank you. The orcs would have killed me, and Ugblood, their leader, seemed determined to take his time in doing so."  
  
The prince of Mirkwood stood and went to his pack, rummaging around. When he turned around, he offered a grim smile. "You might not want to thank me just yet. We're going to have to ride, Estel. I must clean your wounds and bind them so that the pace of travel does not cause you to worsen. It will hurt."  
  
"It already hurts. Do your worst, elf. This human will do his part and not fight you."  
  
Legolas knew that Estel's dry wit was his mechanism for coping with unpleasantness, but any sign of good humor was welcome to his ears after the long night. Carefully, gently, Legolas washed the wounds on Estel's back, and then placed one of his extra tunics against the wounds to pad it before binding it with strips of cloth torn from the remains of Estel's shirt. He then washed the cut on his face, frowning in concern.  
  
"Estel. What caused this wound?"  
  
Flashes of pain, shouting, and cruel orc laughter played through his mind. He felt the whip cutting into his skin, felt boots and fists connecting with his face and chest ...  
  
A whimper, nearly inaudible, escaped his lips as the last several days caught up with him full force. Always before if he was injured, his father cared for his wounds. Sitting on the hard, cold ground with Legolas doing his best to be gentle was such a sharp contrast to lying in a soft bed in Rivendell under the expert care of his - of Lord Elrond - that the whimper was followed by a gasp.  
  
"Estel, I know you have been through a great deal, but I must know what caused this wound. It looks deep, and will probably require stitches."  
  
Through the fog of memories, Estel replied with a shudder. "Knife. Ugblood did it with his knife when I would not tell him - " He stopped, an expression of panic in his eyes. "Rivendell! Legolas, we have to warn Rivendell! The orcs, they wanted me to give away the location, but I would not. That's why they - they beat me. Though, I believe they would have done so anyway."  
  
Legolas shook his head. "No. You told them nothing, and you have to see a healer, Estel. That is not optional. I find it difficult to believe that you have any blood left at all."  
  
Estel shook his head stubbornly, getting shakily to his feet with such a look of determination on his face that Legolas knew that there would be no use in going against him. "The orcs are too near to Rivendell for my ease. Even if they cannot find the entrance, what if my brothers encounter them while out for a hunt? What if Arwen - " The young human shivered. "I will not allow Arwen to suffer her mother's fate. It would kill fa - I mean, it would kill her father."  
  
The prince of Mirkwood tried to be the voice of reason one last time. "My friend, your brothers have killed more orc than any other beings on Middle Earth. They will not be taken by surprise, and they will protect their sister. There is time for me to take you to a village and ride back to Rivendell myself. I will hunt them with your brothers, and they will be dead before three nights fall."  
  
Estel shook his head. "No. My actions of late have caused Lord Elrond much grief. When we last had words, he spoke of having fulfilled his duty to me and having hope that I would someday do mine. If I know that orcs move ever closer to Rivendell and do nothing to stop them, I cannot live with myself, Legolas. Do you understand?"  
  
The elf nodded. "I understand. Estel, can you even use your sword arm? What good will you be able to do if you cannot wield your sword or your bow?"  
  
Using his good hand to undo the sling, Estel used the cloth to bind tightly the place where the bone had been broken. He took the sword that Legolas offered and took several practice slashes at the air. Unbidden tears sprang into his eyes as the motion pulled his lacerated back and streaks of pain shot through his arm. As if to scream defiance to his wounds, he repeated the exercise. "Let's hunt some orc!"  
  
Legolas stood in awe of his friend. He was wounded and not lightly, his eyes shone with a feverish light, and he was grimly determined to fight for the safety of a place from which he had very recently been exiled. It was very little wonder that this man would one day be a leader of all men. If, Legolas thought, he did not die of his fevered wounds before then.  
  
**************************************************************************** *  
  
Arwen rode at the front of the party between her brothers. They had insisted that she remain between them for her protection, and she had granted their request. It would be foolish to ignore their advice when they had killed thousands of orc and she had herself only killed one, and that one from a great distance with her bow.  
  
"Elladan? Why have we stopped?" Arwen frowned as Elrohir sprang down to the ground from his horse, running toward a small clearing.  
  
"This is an orc campsite. Stay near us, Arwen." Elladan followed his brother, keeping a sharp eye out for trouble, and Arwen stayed close to him.  
  
A campfire still smoked when prodded, so it had not been long since the orcs had left. As near as Elrohir could reckon, they were only a day's ride away from Rivendell. Too close, he thought as he searched the site for any clues. His firstborn senses as well as the skills learned from many years travel with the Dunedain allowed him to read the many footprints like a map. He could even see in his head a picture of what had been going on in the camp, and when he ran across a set of footprints that were decidedly un- orc, he felt his heart tighten in his chest. The trail of footprints was broken every now and then by what appeared to be drag marks. His mind's eye saw Estel staggering along between two orcs, his hands bound before him. When the young human fell, the orcs dragged him mercilessly along until he could manage to get his feet under him again.  
  
"Elrohir!" The sound of his brother's voice forced him to come out of the nightmare that played in his mind.  
  
"What is it, Elladan? I think I've found Estel's trail..." He stopped when he realized that Elladan and Arwen stood staring at something on the other side of the camp. Elladan's expression was one of anger and disgust, while Arwen simply looked as though she was going to cry.  
  
Racing over to his siblings, he realized why. A piece of wood was partially buried in the ground, making it difficult indeed to dislodge. The wooden post was stained with blood, and the ground beneath it was also splattered with rust-colored stains.  
  
Elrohir placed a hand on Elladan's shoulder and the other on Arwen's. "Oh, Valar, no."  
  
One of the elves under the command of the twins approached them. "We have been able to determine the direction the orcs took when they broke camp. They travel toward Rivendell, my lords."  
  
**************************************************************************** *  
  
Legolas had debated whether Estel should ride in front of him or behind on the one horse that they had to share. If he rode behind, his wounded back would not be under so much pressure, but he was in more danger of falling off. If he rode in front, his back would chafe and press against Legolas' chest, but the elf could hold him onto the horse. He decided that falling off of the horse would do the young Ranger grievous harm, and so had insisted that Estel ride in front of him. He was glad of his choice when he felt his friend's body go slack and relax against him. Heat radiated from Estel as his fever spiked again, but he did not fall into unconsciousness.  
  
The pace of their travel jarred his aching body terribly, but the worst part was that the pain seemed like a physical manifestation of the searing agony and turmoil in his heart. He had never seen Lord Elrond so angry before, not even when he had been on orc hunts with his father and brothers had Elrond showed such cold, deliberate anger. The eyes that had always looked upon him with love or humor had been empty. Lost in his fevered memories, he mumbled, "Sorry, Ada. I'm sorry."  
  
"Estel?" The elf looked down at his friend in concern. If delirium gripped the young human again, it would be a serious problem.  
  
At the sound of Legolas' voice, Estel forced himself to sit up straight. "I am fine."  
  
They were only about a day's journey from Rivendell now, and Legolas' Elven senses warned him that something was amiss. He stopped the horse, listening intently.  
  
"What is it, Legolas?" Estel's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, prepared to fight if it became necessary.  
  
The elf held up his hand for silence, and then continued to listen. Estel's hearing, although keen even among Rangers, was no match for Elven ears. Moments later, he heard the far-off scream of an orc. Sliding down from the saddle as quickly as his wounds would allow, he put his ear to the ground and closed his eyes, concentrating on listening for vibrations carried through the earth.  
  
"Two different parties of them. Ugblood probably sent for the rest of his company to join him. There are at least a hundred of them in total."  
  
Legolas nodded in agreement. "They are miles from here, headed for Rivendell. You were right, my friend. Even if they cannot find the way in, they can still harass any elves who come and go, and perhaps they will not be so close-mouthed as you were. We must stop them and carry the alarm to Imladris."  
  
Mounting the horse again, the elf and the human rode on a course due west, hoping to reach Rivendell before the orcs could. They reached the edges of Rivendell not a moment too soon. They were only an hour or so ahead of the orcs. When Legolas stopped the horse, Estel slid down to the ground and drew his sword.  
  
"Estel, what are you doing?"  
  
"What I must. I cannot enter Rivendell, but that does not mean that I cannot stop the orcs from doing so. They may never find Imladris, but these woods are sacred to the elves. These woods are my home, my true home. Even if I can no longer walk among the trees, I will not see them chopped at with crude axes for orc campfires. Go, Legolas. Go where I cannot and bring help."  
  
The elf-prince started to protest, and then thought instead of Mirkwood. The pain that the corruption of his beautiful home was still fresh within all the elves formerly of Greenwood, now of Mirkwood. Whenever spiders, orcs, or any other foul creature was spotted, Thranduil sent a party to eradicate the problem. The only way to win their forest back was one battle at a time.  
  
"Legolas, you must go! I am a Ranger, and I am not without cunning. I will lead them on a merry chase before they corner me, and when they do, I won't go down without a fight. With any luck, you'll be back with the twins and their warriors before I even have to engage in face-to-face combat."  
  
Knowing that the Ranger was right and actually turning the horse around and leaving him alone were two very different things. With a feeling of dread in his heart, he pulled a dagger from his person and handed it to Estel. "Here. Have you any other weapons besides the dagger and the sword?"  
  
"I have your extra bow."  
  
Legolas removed two arrows from his quiver and placed them in Estel's. "I fear you will need them more than I. I will return with help as quickly as possible. I will not abandon you, Estel. May the uncanny luck of the Rangers be with you."  
  
With that, Legolas rode hard and fast toward Imladris, and Estel stood his ground, waiting for the inevitable arrival of the orcs.  
  
*********************************************************** 


	3. Part III

Exiled  
  
Part III  
  
By Elizabeth Goode  
  
In his library in Imladris, Lord Elrond Half-Elven paced back and forth. There had been no word from Elladan and Elrohir, and he felt that it was well past the time to begin worrying. Sighing, he stopped pacing and sat down in a comfortable chair. He began to imagine scenario after scenario, each one worse than the one before, of things that could be causing the delay. Perhaps they had run into trouble, had been ambushed by orcs. The thought of his Arwen Undomiel anywhere near an orc made his blood run cold. Perhaps they had found Legolas and had decided to accompany him back to Mirkwood? No, they would have sent a messenger if that were the case. Perhaps they had run across Estel?  
  
The thought of his foster son no longer made him seethe with anger. In fact, guilt was beginning to be the dominant emotion in regard to Estel. In his mind's eye, Elrond saw the toddler he had accepted into his home to raise as his son, messy brown hair sticking out at angles that an Elven child's hair would never dare. He saw a five-year-old boy who had only recently discovered that the language his father and brothers spoke to him was not the language that the Elven children were familiar with. The language issue had really bothered Estel, and if he closed his eyes, Elrond could still see the child working at a frenzied pace to learn to speak Elvish with no accent whatsoever.  
  
Estel at twelve, injured on the second hunting trip he had been allowed to attend with his brothers. He would never forget the sight of Elladan bursting into his chambers, the limp body of his youngest brother clutched tightly to his chest. Estel's eyes were closed, a massive bruise with a matching bump decorating his forehead, and various scrapes and bruises adorning the rest of him.  
  
The boy had stayed on his horse as his brothers had ordered him, but when the deer the twins flushed out of a thicket spooked the young horse, Estel had been thrown to the ground. In his haste to avoid being pounded by the horse's hooves, Estel had rolled off of a cliff that overlooked the river. The fall was not far enough to have claimed his life, but serious enough to keep the boy in bed for a week with a concussion and a fever from the chill he had taken. Elrond had stayed with Estel, stroking his hair to help him sleep, cajoling him into eating, and reading stories to him when he became bored. Elrond remembered thinking that if anything happened to this child, it would surely break his heart.  
  
Even as Estel grew older and began to ride with his brothers and the Dunedain, the elf lord still worried. Even though he was a tall, strong human, Estel measured his abilities by Elven standards and took risks that he should not have taken. If Elladan or Elrohir fought an orc and suffered broken ribs or an arrow wound, their firstborn blood would heal them quickly. Estel dared things that his brothers would not, but his mortal body healed much more slowly. Raising Estel had given Elrond full understanding of the human saying that children gave parents gray hairs.  
  
Elrond would have stayed deep in thought for longer, but at that moment, the doors of the library burst open to admit none other than the very prince of Mirkwood his sons had set out to find and rescue.  
  
"Lord Elrond!" The younger elf was panting with exhaustion, highly unusual for an elf, let alone for an elf such as Legolas.  
  
"Legolas! My sons have ridden out to find you! We received word from your father that there were orcs - "  
  
"Estel." Legolas shook his head sadly. "The orcs got Estel."  
  
When Elrond did not reply, Legolas burst out, "Did you not hear what I said? Estel was taken by orcs. They tried to force him to tell how to get into Imladris. When he would not speak, they beat him and badly!"  
  
Feeling lightheaded, Elrond leaned his head upon his hands, covering his face. A fool. He had been a fool, and now Estel had paid for it. "Does he live?"  
  
Legolas could not restrain himself from snapping, "Do you care? It is because of you that he was taken. He was unable to defend himself with his sword arm broken and his spirits shattered, though he killed eight of them, even in the condition he was in."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"I removed him from the orc camp, but when you see him, you will know that I was not in time to save him from harm. Right now, he stands guard over the border of Rivendell. He is determined that no orc will touch Elven soil. I did not wish to leave him, but he is very stubborn. Even if you have no care for Estel, you must still send out soldiers to kill the orcs."  
  
Elrond nodded, then gave the order to two guards who stood outside the library. "Take any of your men remaining and ride with me. We leave here immediately."  
  
Legolas followed Elrond as he fetched his sword and his bow. "You did not answer me. If you have no care for Estel, I will not let you near him. He will not be able to bear it."  
  
"I allowed my anger to rule me, Legolas. One would think that as long as I have lived, I would have learned to control my anger, to think before speaking. In most matters, I have mastered emotion, but when it comes to my family, I have not, it seems. I did not even allow him to explain, Legolas. I must save him."  
  
Tears shone in the Lord of Rivendell's eyes. "I should have listened when Arwen explained as well. I fear that all of my children have reason to be angry with me. Arwen has armed herself with bow and sword and gone with her brothers to search for you and for Estel."  
  
Legolas acknowledged Elrond's change of heart stiffly, but not without sympathy. "We will put right what was wrong. Let us ride now. There will be time for words when Estel is safe." **************************************************************************** ************  
  
The orcs came quickly and without mercy. As Estel stood his ground, he uttered a prayer to the Valar that Legolas not be the one to find his remains when the orcs had finished with him. Elladan and Elrohir would grieve, but would not feel the personal responsibility so deeply. He knew how much it had distressed Legolas to leave him behind.  
  
He slashed and parried with his sword, barely aware of the pain in his arm as he took down orc after snarling orc. Ugblood must have sent scouts ahead, Estel realized as he struck down the last of the first wave of orcs. There had been perhaps fifteen in the scouting party, and they had come at him one at a time, allowing time for him to free his sword from the carcass of his current opponent before finding it necessary to plunge it into the chest of the next one. The next wave of orcs would not come singly, he knew.  
  
Sure enough, the arrival of the rest of the company showed that Ugblood was no fool. Lines of approximately ten orcs across bore down on the young Ranger. Estel did not wait for them to massacre him. Instead, he dashed into the trees, knowing that he was still a good mile from Rivendell territory. He would use his familiarity with the land to his benefit and to Ugblood's disadvantage. Even when ordered to split up, orcs had a pack mentality. They would travel as a group until ordered otherwise, and even then would remain in groups of four or five. Ninety orcs at once, Estel knew he had no chance of handling. If they split into small groups as he hoped they would, Estel stood a chance.  
  
Using the shadows cast by the trees, as well as the trees themselves for protection, Estel waited for the first group of orcs to pass by. There were five of them, and none could be called small. He plunged his sword into the chest of one of them, then used his left hand to kill another one with one of the daggers Legolas had left for him to use. By the time the first orc had fallen, the killing of the second one had bought him enough time to pull his sword free. While he was killing one with the sword, he was removing his dagger from another, and vice versa. In this way, he managed to kill at least twenty orcs.  
  
Estel listened intently to the forest around him as he lay in wait for the next group of orcs. His head ached so badly that he imagined that with each beat of his heart, his eyes would bulge out of their sockets. Heat, cloying and intense, radiated from his body. His fever was magnified by the physical exertion. The sound of thumping orc feet interrupted his thoughts, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. Protecting Rivendell. Pulling an arrow from the quiver, Estel aimed his bow carefully. Apparently the orcs were wise to his tactic and had regrouped. Led by Ugblood, they were on their way over to the area in which Estel had left the bodies of the last group of orcs he had killed. The arrow flew true, striking one of the orcs in the rear of the party in the chest. Estel had managed to get off three more killing shots before Ugblood and the others were aware that they were being shot at.  
  
"The elves know we are here! We have to double our pace!" Ugblood's words were a snarl, an affront to speech everywhere.  
  
"But Captain, we were one hundred strong, but we've lost thirty five of our company already!"  
  
Ugblood glared at the smaller orc that had spoken, then reached out, took his head in his powerful hands, and twisted it from his shoulders with a guttural snigger. "Thirty-four. Does anyone else have any questions for their Captain?"  
  
Estel crouched in his hiding place, remaining as still as he could, trying to imagine that he was part of the ground, just another rock or leaf. He felt his stomach sink as Ugblood looked up, sniffing the air.  
  
One of the orcs near Ugblood did the same. "What is it? What do you smell, Captain?"  
  
Ugblood's nostrils flared with anger. "We've been tricked, boys. There are no elves here. I smell manflesh!"  
  
Estel felt his heart stop beating for a moment, and concentrated on blending in with the shrubbery that hid him from their sight. "Please, please, don't let them find me. Please hurry back, Legolas!"  
  
Ugblood sniffed the air again and stopped, looking right at Estel's hiding place. "It's the human! The one who escaped! Find him and bring him to me. I will finish what I started with him. He will beg me to kill him before I let him die!"  
  
Fear, cold and sharp filled Estel's being. He lurched awkwardly from his hiding place and ran. **************************************************************************** ************************ "Elladan! Halt!"  
  
Elrohir reined in his horse, listening. "Orcs! Less than a mile from here!"  
  
"I hear them, brother. It sounds like they're in battle. We must ride to aid whoever fights against them! There we might find Estel and perhaps even Legolas!"  
  
The company of elves galloped in the direction of the battle sounds for what seemed even to the immortals to be an eternity, but was actually about half an hour. Elrohir stopped again when he came upon five dead orcs. Kneeling beside the foul carcasses to examine the area for tracks or clues, his hand found a dagger embedded in one of their chests. He pulled it out, recognizing it as Elven.  
  
"This is of Mirkwood's design. Legolas was here and killed these orcs."  
  
Nearby, Elladan had discovered another pile of carcasses. "And it appears that he was in rare form. There are twenty dead orcs at least in this area, not counting the several we saw that lay alone."  
  
Arwen laid a hand on Elrohir's shoulder. "Is there any sign of Estel? Please do not shield me from unpleasant truths, my brother, for I intend to use this sword I have brought when we come upon any orcs that are living."  
  
He shook his head. "Nothing here immediately grabs my attention, and we do not have the time for a closer inspection. We must help Legolas if he is alone among the orcs. They will not be happy with him if he has killed so many of them."  
  
Just then, a ragged scream echoed in the forest, followed by the guttural laughter of orcs. The scream made the hair on the backs of their necks stand up, and Arwen shivered.  
  
"Estel."  
  
The name was spoken softly, like a prayer to the Valar for hope. Elladan closed his eyes briefly. "They have him."  
  
Drawing her sword in a graceful, fluid motion, Arwen narrowed her eyes. "Then, they will not live another night."  
  
Following their sister's directive, the twins drew their swords and raced, followed by their company of elves, to their brother's aid. **************************************************************************** *************  
  
Estel was caught, trapped like a rodent in a cage. Had he not been ill and wounded, he could have easily escaped capture, but his aching body had prohibited him from quick and agile movement. Ugblood had his underlings tie the Estel's hands before him, as they had done before. When the young Ranger gasped as his wounded arm was pulled sharply, Ugblood delivered a bone-snapping punch. There was an audible cracking sound as the bone that had barely begun to heal was again broken, and Estel could not hold in his scream of pain.  
  
He knew that the orcs were mocking him, and he could see Ugblood's lips moving, but all he could hear was the dull roar of pain in his ears as he fell to his knees, unable to rise. A hard kick to his chest knocked his legs the rest of the way from under him, and he collapsed, face down, in the leaves. Hot, blinding pain seared his back as the whip descended again and again on the already abused flesh. He was going to die, and he was going to die alone, an exile, without the comfort of family or friend.  
  
Suddenly, the pain stopped enough that the roar in his ears subsided. He no longer heard orc laughter, delighting in his pain. Instead, he heard voices, Elven voices that sounded very familiar. Opening his eyes was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he managed to do it. Dead orcs littered the forest floor, and he saw Elrohir and Arwen emerge into the clearing, wiping blood from their swords. Elladan knelt over him, tears running silently down his face.  
  
Everything had a surreal sort of light around it, and he felt light, as though his body was not under his control. Hoarsely, he managed, "Ell'dan?"  
  
Afraid to touch his foster brother for fear of aggravating his wounds, Elladan reached out to him, then allowed his hands to hover just shy of resting on Estel's shoulders. The pain was so terrible that Estel knew it would not worsen at his brother's touch, and he reached out a shaking hand to grip Elladan's.  
  
Arwen and Elrohir knelt beside him, both of them crying. Between the three of them, they managed to get Estel into a sitting position, his head resting on Arwen's shoulder. Her long fingers stroked his hair softly. "Oh, my Estel. You will be all right. We are here, and we will take you home, where you belong."  
  
Estel turned his head slightly, jumping in surprise when he saw Ugblood's headless body. His head was several feet away, an arrow through the eye. Mustering a smile, Elladan explained, "We heard you cry out and rode to your aid, my brother. We arrived in this clearing and saw this ugly fellow beating you, and so Arwen shot him through the eye, and when that failed to stop him, I fought and beheaded him."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Elrohir's eyes widened. "Why? Why? Estel, because we've been out here looking for you for the last two days! We were worried about you."  
  
Estel shook his head slowly. "Can't . Rivendell. Exiled."  
  
Elrohir shrugged. "I care not. I will not let you die out here. Rivendell is where I live, and that's where I'm taking you!"  
  
A cough racked Estel's body, causing pain to slice across his ribs and back. He gasped, wiping blood from his mouth with his left hand. "Too late. Won't make it." Estel's eyes closed again, and his body went slack.  
  
"No! Estel! Come back to the light, my love! You must not sleep now, you must open your eyes!" Arwen gripped his shoulders firmly, shaking him. "I know this hurts, but you must wake up!"  
  
The young Ranger did not move, his lips beginning to take on a bluish tint.  
  
Elladan threw his sword down angrily, giving an inarticulate shout of rage. Elrohir stood slightly back, a dazed expression in his eyes. It seemed that Hope was to be lost, and there was nothing they could do about it.  
  
The sound of an eagle's cry filled the air, and all three looked up to see Gwaihir, the Lord of the Eagles, descending to land in the clearing. On his back was Mithrandir, known to Men as Gandalf the Gray.  
  
The wizard climbed down from the Eagle's back and made his way to where Estel lay. Without even addressing the elves, Gandalf shook his head sadly. "Oh, my boy. What have you gotten yourself into this time?" 


	4. Part IV

Exiled  
  
By Elizabeth Goode  
  
Part IV  
  
**************************************************************************** **************** The wizard crouched beside Estel's still form and placed a hand on the young human's chest, speaking softly in a tongue neither Elven nor Human. With a shuddering gasp, Estel began to breathe again, although he did not wake.  
  
Elrohir let out a long breath, having forgotten in his distress that he had been holding it. Arwen clutched Gandalf's hand, gazing up at him with a gratitude that was eternal. Elladan sighed, closing his eyes in relief and twining his fingers around his foster brother's as though lending him support.  
  
"Thank you, Mithrandir. I feared that Hope would be lost." Elrohir spoke, his tone relieved.  
  
"Do not thank me just yet, son of Elrond. Estel is still in terrible danger. It is good that Gwaihir alerted me to the situation, or Estel might be dead right now. The Lord of the Eagles was soaring overhead, keeping an eye on a party of orcs who had captured a young human. He thought that it was too close to Rivendell to mean any good, and so he fetched me from my visit to an old friend in the Shire. It seems that I have arrived just in the nick of time."  
  
Gandalf lifted the young Ranger gently and carried him with an ease that belied his aged appearance to the back of the massive Eagle.  
  
The bird squawked loudly, extending his wing to facilitate getting Estel onto his back, then turned his great head, nudging him softly, as a mother bird does her young.  
  
Gandalf smiled. "Yes, Gwaihir. This Man is exactly who you think he is."  
  
Turning to the twins and Arwen, Gandalf became serious again. "The Lord of Rivendell rides with the Prince of Mirkwood. They have killed all of the rest of the orcs, and are searching for you and for Estel. Find him and tell him to make haste to Imladris. Gwaihir and I will get Estel there and I will tend him until Elrond arrives." The wizard climbed onto the Eagle's back, wrapping his arms around Estel's waist to keep him from falling.  
  
Elladan nodded. "We will do as you ask, Mithrandir. We will see you and Estel soon in Imladris!"  
  
******************************************************************  
  
He had the strange sensation that he was flying. Of course, he knew it was ridiculous. Probably just some manifestation of the fever that gripped him. Estel was aware of someone behind him. Someone strong, holding his body upright.  
  
"Rest, Estel. You are safe. We will soon be home."  
  
The voice sounded so familiar ...  
  
"Gandalf?"  
  
The wizard gently brushed tangled hair from the young human's face, exposing a long, jagged cut that he had not noticed previously.  
  
"Yes, it is Gandalf. Don't try to talk, young one. Your throat is injured and you are wounded and unwell."  
  
"Where?" Every word exhausted him, but he had to know where he was being taken.  
  
"Rivendell. I am taking you home. You are flying on the back of Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles. He was quite happy to be of help to you, my young Dunadan. He is a predator, you see. He can smell Numenor in your blood."  
  
Gandalf expected any reaction other than the one he got. Instead of relaxing, of being glad that he was being taken home, the overwrought young Ranger began to sob. These were not the cries of frustration or of pain that one might hear from anyone under the kind of physical stress Estel was in. The sobs that shook the badly wounded young body seemed to break forth from his very soul. Between gasping sobs, Gandalf could make out only a few words.  
  
"Can't .... Rivendell .... Exiled .... Ada won't - won't ... Ahhh!" His frenzied attempt to speak while his body seized with powerful sobs caused his already battered ribcage to explode with pain. Gandalf had to hold him to keep him from falling.  
  
The most important order of business was to calm the young human before he hurt himself further. The wizard spoke comforting words in Elvish, gently easing Estel's head back to rest on his shoulder. After the sobs had quieted, Gandalf asked quietly, "Now, that's better. I am sorry that something I said upset you, but unless you tell me, I cannot guarantee that I will not make the same mistake again."  
  
Turning his head slightly to bury his face in the gray robes, Estel began again to descend into the grips of delirium. "Hurts, Gandalf. Please, make it stop!"  
  
The only thing the wizard could do was again put the young Ranger to sleep. Although he was curious to find out why the mention of Rivendell caused Estel such anguish, it was too cruel to allow him to remain awake when pain and illness had such a grip on him. Gandalf felt Estel go limp again, and could not help but frown with worry.  
  
Upon their arrival at Rivendell, Gandalf again carried Estel, wrapping his cloak around the shivering form. At the door of the House of Elrond, a guard stopped him.  
  
"Mithrandir! It has been some time since your last visit here, and Lord Elrond will be glad to see you, I am sure. However, you cannot bring him here." The elf gestured to Estel, who was now lost in delirium.  
  
Gandalf drew himself up to his full height and narrowed his eyes at the elf. "And why not? Is he not Estel, the Hope of Men? The child Elrond chose to raise as one of his own?"  
  
The elf eyed the angry wizard nervously. "Yes, Mithrandir, he is Estel. The problem is that Lord Elrond has proclaimed him an exile. His presumption in accepting the heart of the Evenstar has angered Lord Elrond. Estel can no longer enter Rivendell or Lorien."  
  
Tapping his staff on the ground in agitation and looking more and more angry with every passing second, Gandalf took a step forward. "That is folly, and I will tell Elrond so myself. Surely you know that I am not merely an old man. One way or another, Guard of Rivendell, I assure you that I will pass through these doors with Estel. He needs immediate care or he will die."  
  
The elf spoke hesitantly, "Lord Elrond is away. He has gone to fight a band of orcs nearby ... "  
  
Impatiently, Gandalf interrupted him. "Estel stood guard over the border of Rivendell and killed nearly thirty-five orcs all on his own. You owe your current safety to him. Let us pass, Guard of Rivendell, or you will be forced to do so."  
  
With a sigh, the guard stepped aside. "Take him inside, Mithrandir. I cannot bear to see him so. Estel has always treated me with the utmost respect."  
  
Gandalf passed through the door, Estel in his arms. "There will be no hard feelings, my friend. You were only obeying the orders of Elrond. Which are usually quite sound. It is no fault of yours that he chose this time to change that."  
  
Leaving the guard behind, Gandalf made haste to Estel's chambers, where he lay the young Ranger down on his bed and began the unsavory task of beginning to tend to his wounds.  
  
The ruthless cruelty of the orcs was laid out before him in all of its ghastly glory. Estel's back was marked from shoulder to waist with cuts from the whip the orcs had used on him. The unbroken skin was a rainbow of bruises from various hits, kicks, and beatings. His chest was one solid bruise of varying shades of black, purple, blue, green, and yellow, punctuated by the occasional cut from a dagger or sword. Blackened bruises around his neck in the shape of massive orc hands showed where he had been strangled, no doubt causing the difficulty in speaking Estel had shown. The cut that ran from hairline to jawbone needed to be stitched, and Gandalf hoped that the blade had not been poisoned. Worse than all of the other injuries was the unnatural angle of Estel's arm. Setting that bone would be an ordeal in and of itself. On top of it all, Estel literally burned with fever, his young body shivering convulsively.  
  
"Oh, my poor boy. You never do anything halfway, do you?"  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Legolas rode swiftly back to Rivendell in the company of Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, and Elrond, along with all of the warriors that had gone with them to hunt the orcs. Since the twins and Arwen had found them and informed them of Gandalf's arrival and subsequent spiriting Estel off to Rivendell, no one had spoken. It was just as well, for tempers were still too high for words to be a useful tool.  
  
When they finally arrived at Imladris, all of them hurried to Estel's room, hoping to find that Gandalf had cured him, that he was on the mend already. They were sadly mistaken. The wizard sat at Estel's bedside, speaking Elvish words of comfort to the delirious young human.  
  
"Ada, Ada! Please, help me! The fire - the shadow and the flame - they are too close, Ada! The shadow freezes and the - the flame burns me!"  
  
Elrond felt his heart contract painfully in his chest at the desperation in his foster son's voice. What had he done?  
  
"Arwen, I am sorry, beloved. I did not understand. Do not wait f-for me in this place of death! Go, Arwen, go to the Havens and be with your mother. She will have missed you. How could she not?"  
  
Elrond removed his riding cloak and sat down beside the wizard. "How long has he been like this?"  
  
"Like what, Elrond? In despair? He has been that way since you exiled him from his home and the only family he has ever known! Fevered? I know not. Legolas, was he feverish when you found him?"  
  
The prince of Mirkwood nodded solemnly. "When I freed him from the orc camp, he was muttering in his sleep, crying out for his Ada, his brothers, and his beloved. He became more lucid the next day, but when he decided to fight the orcs, he was still burning up. I fear it was the wound on his face. I fear it was poison." Legolas took the cool cloth from Gandalf's hand and gently wiped his friend's forehead. "Oh, Estel. I should not have left you, my friend. I am sorry."  
  
"Sorry ... " Estel echoed faintly.  
  
Elrond took over. "All of you leave us. Mithrandir, if you would, stay and help me tend to him. The rest of you will be alerted if there is any change at all."  
  
Legolas frowned, hesitant to leave. "You are no longer angry with him?"  
  
"I am angry only with myself, Legolas. I will save him, but I need space to do so. Go and get some much-needed rest. Mithrandir is here, so even if you do not trust me, you may trust in him."  
  
It was only when Elladan tugged gently at his sleeve that Legolas reluctantly agreed to leave Estel's side. Before leaving the room, Arwen leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Estel's bruised cheek. "Rest, beloved. Rest, and when you wake, I will be here."  
  
At Arwen's touch, Estel ceased his fevered mumblings, settling back into the pillows.  
  
With everyone out of the way, Elrond finished the work that Gandalf had started. When he saw the damage inflicted upon Estel's back, he gasped aloud. Tears welled in the Lord of Rivendell's eyes as he daubed a healing salve on each cut.  
  
A poultice of the correct combination of herbs was placed on Estel's forehead to reduce his fever, and Elrond began preparing athelas to deal with the poisoned wound that was gouged into Estel's previously unmarred face. If Elrond had anything to say about it, the wounds would not scar. He did not want Estel to be left with physical reminders of his father's foolishness.  
  
"Oh, my son, I am sorry. I did this to you, as surely as if I had dealt each blow myself!"  
  
To his surprise, Estel opened his eyes, squinting slightly to see. "Ada?"  
  
Elrond was so happy to hear Estel's voice that he could not hide the grin that lit his face.  
  
Estel's eyes were still fever-glazed, with a hint of confusion, but it was his voice and his words that broke the elf-lord's heart. "I died, didn't I?"  
  
"Why would you say that, my son?"  
  
"You're not real."  
  
"Estel, I am here! Ada is here, and he will make sure that you get well."  
  
"No, you can't be real. I betrayed his trust, and he would not be speaking to me softly, as you are." He closed his eyes, whispering, "Though I am grateful the Valar gave this to me, illusion that it is."  
  
With that, Estel again drifted into a fevered sleep, leaving Elrond sit at his bedside, stunned at the damage he had done to the young man's soul.  
  
He was interrupted from his grief by Gandalf. "The athelas is ready, old friend. The faster it begins its work, the faster you can begin to heal the rift between Estel and yourself."  
  
Elrond sighed, rising to begin his fight against the poison and the illness. "Thank you. I suppose you think me an old fool?"  
  
"Am I wrong?"  
  
"No, you are not. When I saw my Undomiel kneel beside him and call him beloved, something inside of me became irrational. All I could see was Celebrian's face when I finally go to her in the Undying Lands and tell her that her daughter is lost to us." He shook his head sadly. "I reacted badly. I reacted in a very human way. I suppose there is a reason that I am called Elrond Half-Elven. I seem to forget that my own dear brother was as mortal as my Estel."  
  
Gandalf laid a hand on the Lord of Rivendell's shoulder. "Mistakes are not a purely human trait, my friend. I have made errors in judgment, and certainly many Elves have as well. That does not mean that we cannot mend what we have done."  
  
Elrond looked thoughtful. "I believe that Celebrian might have made a mistake in leaving the way she did. Her sons bear enormous guilt, and her daughter feels abandoned. She did not even tell them goodbye! Right before my children left to search for Legolas and Estel, Arwen said as much to me."  
  
"But you still wish to be with your wife again. Her mistake did not make you cease to love her?"  
  
"Of course not! You are wise. After living for more than three thousand years, one would think that I would be wiser than I am."  
  
Gandalf shook his head. "No one can be wise at all times with matters of the heart. The important thing is that you have realized your mistake and intend to set things right. After all, it doesn't really matter how much time one has. It is how you use that time that makes all the difference."  
  
Elrond smiled faintly. "Those are good words of wisdom. Let us pray that Estel makes it through this so that his short time on Middle Earth is well spent. If he fulfills his destiny, I will give him my Undomiel with a smile in my heart."  
  
"And if he does not?"  
  
"Well, do not tell Estel this, for I intend to inspire him to the greatness he is capable of by dangling the Evenstar before him like a carrot before a horse, but even if he does not become the King of Men, I will not deny him or my daughter their heart's desire."  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
It was three days before the fever broke. Three days that Elrond kept a vigil at Estel's bedside, while Arwen, Legolas, the twins, and Gandalf rotated in and out of the room as well. The wounds on Estel's back had begun to heal under Elrond's constant care, and it seemed that very few scars, if any at all, would remain. The poisoned head wound began to improve after only a day of exposure to athelas, and the many bruises began to fade. His broken arm had been expertly set, and was now bound firmly in a sling to prevent further injury.  
  
Legolas sat in a chair beside his friend, reading aloud to him from a book of Numenorean history, recounting to him tales of the heroism of Men. The elf found that reading was a good way to speak to someone who was unlikely to answer. If Estel should awake, he would hear a friendly voice, but not feel obligated to strain himself to speak. After his major wounds were tended and his fever at least under some control, Elrond had examined Estel's bruised throat and found that his windpipe had swelled badly from the trauma. A draught of herbs and a cool poultice brought the swelling down and began to heal the injury, but speaking too much before it was healed would aggravate the problem.  
  
The elf was so engrossed in his reading that it took him a moment to realize that Estel had squeezed his hand. Putting the book down, Legolas stared into a pair of clear, lucid gray eyes.  
  
"Estel?"  
  
"Legolas." The young Ranger's voice was still hoarse.  
  
"Don't try to speak just yet, Estel. Your throat was injured."  
  
Reaching up to hold a hand over his throat, Estel nodded in surprise when he felt the poultice there.  
  
Estel turned his head to the side and his eyes widened at the sight of Elrond asleep with his head resting on the bed.  
  
"Yes, you are home, and your father has come to his senses. Lord Elrond has lifted your exile. In fact, he has not left your side since you have been here. He is most grieved by his behavior."  
  
With his good hand, Estel reached out to touch the elf-lord's hand softly.  
  
Elrond opened his eyes blearily and sat up. When he saw Estel watching him, his jaw dropped. Tears of joy welled in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. "Estel! My son, you are awake!"  
  
"Ada ... "  
  
"Shh, my son. You have been very ill. You very nearly did not make it."  
  
"Sorry ... "  
  
Elrond placed a finger gently against Estel's lips. "There will be time for talking later. Do not apologize, Estel. It is I who have done wrong."  
  
To Elrond's surprise, Estel's eyes began to swim with tears.  
  
Legolas frowned in concern. "Estel! Why do you weep, my friend? Is the pain too much to bear?"  
  
Estel shook his head and struggled to a sitting position and leaned his head against his foster father's chest. "Ada ... "  
  
Placing his arms carefully to avoid aggravating his wounds, Elrond embraced Estel and gently rocked him back and forth. Legolas crept silently from the room to tell the others the good news, that Estel had awakened and that father and son had at last been reunited. As he closed the door to give them privacy, the Prince of Mirkwood felt as though a leaden weight had been removed from his heart. 


	5. Part V

Exiled Part V By Elizabeth Goode  
  
  
  
Sunlight poured through the window of Estel's chamber, bringing out the seldom-seen lights in his dark hair. The sleeping Ranger was the very image of peace and restful sleep. It had been a week and a half since his return to Rivendell, and Legolas had joked with his friend that if professional sleeping were an occupation, then Estel had indeed found his calling.  
  
Seated in a comfortable chair at his friend's bedside, Legolas patiently waited for Estel to wake. He would be getting up and going down to dinner for the first time since his homecoming, and the elf knew that he would need help washing up and dressing with his broken arm. Legolas knew Estel well enough to know that accepting help from his father or brothers would only embarrass him, and so he had decided to volunteer his assistance.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
At the sound of Estel's voice, the Prince of Mirkwood sat up straight and met his friend's eyes. "Yes?"  
  
"I thought that elves were quiet and stealthy."  
  
"We are."  
  
"Apparently not. Your constant shifting about in that chair woke me up."  
  
Legolas smiled, glad that Estel was feeling well enough to joke. "No, my friend. You awakened because you have been asleep all night long and into the late morning. It is nearly time for supper. Do not blame the elf, human. This elf has your best interest in mind."  
  
Estel sat up slowly, wincing slightly as he straightened his tender back. "If you truly have my best interest at heart, elf, help me up. I feel as though I've been trampled by oliphaunts."  
  
Knowing that to ask for help, Estel must truly feel terrible, Legolas moved to offer his assistance. The fever had left the young human thin and weakened, and for the first time, Legolas truly understood what it meant to be ill. Being an elf, he had never had to experience the fevers and colds and various other ailments that Estel had to contend with. The frailty of mortals had been weighing heavily on the elf-prince's mind ever since he had found his friend in the orc camp.  
  
"What is wrong?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "Nothing. Here, let me help you with that tunic..."  
  
"My friend, you cannot fool me. Something troubles you, and I would know what it is so that I can help you."  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood sighed, sitting down beside Estel. "There are things that even you cannot fix, even if you will be the King of Men."  
  
Estel shook his head. "You know I have no wish to be a king, but that is beside the point. What troubles you?"  
  
"I feared for your life, Estel. When I found you and saw your wounds, my heart grieved, but I knew that eventually the flesh would heal. It was the illness that frightened me. I have seen you ill before, but not delirious. The fever made you say things..." Legolas stopped, looking down at the floor.  
  
"I said things that made no sense and spoke to people who were not present, and it frightened you to see me that way. Of course it would. The Firstborn are strangers to illness. I can assure you that I am all right, and that it is thanks to you." For a moment, Estel's eyes were haunted. "I can tell you that I have never in my life been happier to see anyone than I was when I realized that you had taken me out of that place."  
  
The image of Estel's battered body tied to that wooden post would not be quick to leave the Prince of Mirkwood's mind, nor would the sound of his screams as the orcs beat him mercilessly. He suppressed a shiver. "One question, my friend. How in the name of all that is sacred in Middle-Earth did you manage to kill thirty-five orcs in the condition you were in? You could barely stand!"  
  
The haunted expression left the human's eyes and he laughed out loud, a sound that Legolas had truly missed. "The obvious answer to that question is that I must be an amazingly fearsome warrior. One look at me, and they fell upon their own swords just to avoid the justice I would deal out to them." The twinkle in his eye was the only outward sign that he was having fun at Legolas' expense. The elf did not mind at all.  
  
"Is that why the Rangers know you as Strider, then? Because you strut about with the knowledge of your superiority?"  
  
"Hmmph. An elf speaking of a human's superiority? Has the sky fallen while I have been ill?"  
  
Legolas stood, helping Estel to his feet. "Let me help you get that tunic on. If we don't come down to dinner, your father is likely to send the twins after us. Arwen found you a tunic that buttons up the front so you don't have to raise your arms to put it on."  
  
As the soft fabric brushed against his back, Estel winced slightly. "I am glad that she did. I do not think that raising my arms is an option just yet." He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror that hung on the opposite wall and frowned. The young man who stared back at him was pale and thin. His scraggly beard had been trimmed and his hair washed, but he still looked haggard. The cut that ran from his hairline to his jaw line was healing nicely, but the stitches still stood out in sharp contrast to his pale face.  
  
"She will not mind, you know. Arwen will be so glad to see you standing under your own power that she will not even take notice of your appearance."  
  
Estel looked away from the mirror, feeling a slight blush creep across his face. "That is not what I was thinking about."  
  
"And oliphaunts may fly, my friend. Come, dinner waits and I begin to feel the pangs of hunger."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Estel followed Legolas from the room. "Elves! Among the Rangers, I become used to hearing, 'Food's ready? Well, dish it up, I'm starving!'. With you, even mundane matters become poetry."  
  
The elf smiled, shaking his head. "'Tis one of the gifts of the Firstborn."  
  
"Well, are you coming or not? I would truly hate to keep dinner waiting, lest the 'pangs of hunger' plague me as well!"  
  
**************************************************************************** ***  
  
Dinner went well. Estel was seated in one of the most comfortable chairs that would fit at the table, and Arwen sat right beside him. All throughout the meal, she would catch his eye and offer a smile or a wink to show him how glad she was that he was able to join the family for a meal. Elladan and Elrohir bantered good-naturedly with each other and with anyone else who could be convinced to participate. Several times during the meal, Estel caught Elrond watching him, concerned every time the young human so much as leaned forward to reach for his wine goblet. A feeling of intense relief filled him as he realized that his foster father was truly concerned for him.  
  
Gandalf entertained them all with tales of his many travels, and more than once he glanced at Estel out of the corner of his eye. The wizard had always had a definite soft spot on his heart for the young human, and after the rescue, it had only grown.  
  
After the meal, Estel was wearier by far than he had thought he would be. Arwen slipped her arm through his good one softly. "Let me walk with you back to your chambers. You are not yet healed, and you must be exhausted."  
  
He accepted her offer gratefully. "I am glad for the help and for the company." Estel hesitated before continuing. "Elladan told me that you rode with he and Elrohir to search for me and for Legolas. I remember it now, if I think about it. Everything was so hazy, but you - you shot Ugblood through the eye. Thank you."  
  
Arwen smiled, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I could not bear to think of you in danger. Of course I rode out to find you, beloved one."  
  
"Shh! Do not call me 'beloved'. That is what angered Ada before. I have no wish to upset him again." More quietly, he whispered, "I do not think that I could bear to be cast again from Rivendell."  
  
She shook her head, confused. "Then you do not love me? I heard you cry out in your fever, you have called me 'beloved' before!"  
  
Estel frowned, his eyes misting over with tears. "You will always be my beloved, Arwen Undomiel. I only meant that knowing that your father does not approve of my feelings for you, I would be a poor guest to blatantly defy him."  
  
"Guest? Estel, this is your home. Ada regrets the things he said to you, and he loves you!"  
  
"I am no elf, Arwen. The choice of Luthien should not be your burden as well. I cannot make a choice that ends with the extinguishing of the light of the Evenstar."  
  
Her pale cheeks flushed with emotion, and she straightened her slender shoulders. "Estel, you have missed the point. No choice that you make could cause that to happen. There is a reason it is referred to as the choice of Luthien, not the choice of Beren. If you fulfill your destiny, you will have many things weighing on your mind. The very last thing you will need is the added burden of my mortality. That is why it would be by my choice, not by yours."  
  
They reached the doorway of Estel's chambers, and stopped. He stared into her deep blue eyes, wanting nothing more than to lean in to kiss her. Her words soothed his troubled mind, and not for the first time, he stood in awe of her wisdom. "May I?"  
  
She smiled. "May you do what?"  
  
"I would like to kiss you."  
  
Arwen leaned close to him, mindful of his wounded arm. "Then that is quite fortunate for the both of us, for I very much want you to."  
  
**************************************************************************** *  
  
Estel sat on the edge of his bed, his mind still reeling from the kiss he had shared with Arwen. He knew that his body was crying out for rest, but unfortunately, it was also crying out with physical pain. His back throbbed unrelentingly, his chest was still quite sore, and on top of it all, his head was starting to feel fuzzy.  
  
Someone tapped lightly on his door, and he heard Elrond's voice. "Estel? May I come in?"  
  
"Of course, Ada."  
  
The door opened slowly, and Elrond came inside, shutting the door behind him. "I've brought you some salve to relieve your back, and a tea to help you sleep."  
  
This had been a routine ever since Estel had been rescued, but he had been so ill that he barely remembered any words that had been exchanged. He did not protest as Elrond removed his tunic and inspected his healing back, pressing gently in several places. When Estel winced and bit back a gasp, he stopped. "Your back will take time to heal, but until then, this salve should take the edge away. Lie down, my son."  
  
There was a very good reason that Elrond was known far and wide as an excellent healer, even among elves. Within minutes, the tense, knotted muscles and sore, healing flesh relaxed under his gentle hands. Estel's breathing became deep and regular as he listened to Elrond's voice.  
  
"I remember when you were brought to me. You were small and really quite rambunctious, but you loved it when I would put you to bed and read to you. Sometimes, when you had a nightmare or were ill, I would sit beside you much like this." The elf-lord sighed. "To me, it seems as though all of that was yesterday."  
  
Estel was so deeply relaxed that Elrond paused, checking to see if his foster son was asleep.  
  
"I am awake." Estel's voice was soft, tinged with sleepiness.  
  
"Good, because there is something very important I wish to tell you." Elrond frowned as he felt all of his work at getting the young man to relax undone. Estel's shoulders tensed, his back again beginning to knot and ache. "Estel, my son . you have been through a terrible ordeal, and it is because of me and my foolish anger that you have suffered. I ask you to forgive me. You were a dear, sweet child and you have become a strong, considerate, and brave man. Your human parents would be very proud of you, and I know that I could not have more pride in how you have grown up."  
  
For a long moment, Estel did not speak, and Elrond began to fear that he had gone so far in his anger that his human son would not be able to forgive him. Finally, the elf-lord leaned over to see Estel's face, and realized that he had not spoken because he was fighting the tears that welled in his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, Elrond pulled his foster son into a gentle embrace, whispering soothing words and stroking the messy dark hair. A fleeting image of Estel as a laughing child with the very same untamed hair he had now passed through Elrond's mind, and he smiled at the memory.  
  
"I was afraid."  
  
Elrond nodded reassuringly. "Of course you were. Everyone is afraid of orcs. They are large, cruel, and depraved. They were created with the express purpose of inspiring fear in beings of light like you and I. The important thing is that your fear was not your master. You fought them and killed them, even after they hurt you terribly. And, you fought to protect Rivendell in spite of our bitter parting. For that, I thank you, my son."  
  
Hesitantly, Estel asked, "You are no longer angry that I am in love with your daughter? I would stop if I could, for her sake and for yours, but the Evenstar's light does not wane, even in my heart."  
  
"On the day that you fulfill your destiny as Isildur's Heir and take the thrones of Gondor and Arnor, my Arwen Undomiel may become your wife with my blessing. She explained to me many nuances of the choice of Luthien, the foremost being that it was a choice made by Luthien herself, not by Beren or any other." The elf-lord rubbed his temples ruefully. "She made her point so eloquently that I almost regretted allowing her to go and live with her grandmother for so long. Galadriel's mastery of language was, I had thought, unmatched."  
  
Estel wiped his eyes and chuckled softly at the mental image of Arwen 'educating' Elrond on the finer points of Elvish history.  
  
"She loves you, Estel. I will not bring her sadness by denying her heart's desire. And I love you as well and do not wish you to despair."  
  
The herbal tea began to take effect, and Estel yawned sleepily. "You are forgiven, Ada. I am so very glad to be home and - and glad that you - " He yawned again, and Elrond adjusted his covers to make him more comfortable. "I love you too, Ada."  
  
"Rest, young one."  
  
The young Ranger slept again, and for a long while Elrond sat beside him, considering for the first time what it would have meant had Estel been killed or taken before Sauron by the orcs. He shivered at the thought.  
  
"You did not call him 'Estel' simply because you were fond of the name. The fate of Middle Earth could rest with him." Gandalf had been standing in the doorway for several moments.  
  
Elrond turned to look at the wizard. "Then Middle Earth is in good hands. He is a gift, Mithrandir. It pains me that his life will not be an easy one. I fear for his safety."  
  
Gandalf nodded sadly. "I will look out for him whenever I can, and I know that you and your sons and daughter will do so as well. Legolas Greenleaf seems quite intent upon keeping Estel safe as well. If I do say so myself, that is a fairly impressive army of bodyguards for the boy."  
  
Elrond gave his sleeping foster son a gentle pat. "Knowing Estel as I do, it will take all of us to keep him alive until it is time for him to fulfill his destiny. The boy seems to believe that he is invincible. No sane elf would attempt some of the stunts he has pulled. I suppose that is where Legolas and the twins come in. They still look out for him, even though he is no longer a child."  
  
For a long while, the Lord of Rivendell and the wizard watched the sleeping human, both of the same mind that Estel should rest and take his time to recover while he still could, for the time would come when that would not be the case.  
  
(End for now, possible sequel, but not for a little while. I have another story to finish, one that I have neglected shamelessly to write this one.) 


End file.
